Chapter 6

W ulfric's nose twitched as the rich aroma of sizzling bacon, juicy sausage, and savory ham wafted through the air, filling the room with a tantalizing scent. Slowly, he blinked open his sleep-heavy eyes, feeling the crust of tiredness that coated them. With a deep sigh, he raised a hand to rub at his weary gaze before lifting his head to survey his surroundings.

The room spun as he blinked, taking precious seconds to get his bearings. Memories came back but only the recent ones yet again. The fight with Brody. The icy river. The druid's cottage.

Squinting, he took in his surroundings. A woman with curly gray and red hair stood at the stove, stirring a pot of soup and humming to herself. He rubbed at the stiffness in his neck as he tried to remember how she got there. As he stretched, he felt a dull ache in his muscles, but it was nothing compared to the agony he had felt before.

He heard the even breathing behind him and turned his head.

The younger red-haired druid who had taken care of him lay on a large, cushioned chair, one leg thrown over an armrest, her head hanging over the other. Black pants clung to her calves near his head, and awareness slammed into him.

This was the woman who'd nursed him back from death. He glanced at the woman in the kitchen, warily watching her. The way she moved reminded him of the younger woman behind him. A relative, perhaps?

His mind was fuzzy, and he couldn't remember talking to the younger one, but he must have. He felt like he'd known her for years. For once, he wasn't worried about being vulnerable to someone behind him.

He came up on his good elbow, his injured arm wrapped close to his side with gauze. Beads of sweat broke out on his upper lip as he rolled to his knees, and his breathing grew shallow. His vision tilted and his heart raced from the pain.

The old woman's skirts coming into view and a soft hand settled on his back, causing him to snarl and recoil in surprise. His body collided with the other cushioned chair, sending it skidding across the floor as waves of pain crashed through him. It felt like shards of glass piercing his skin, each one leaving a searing trail of agony in its wake. He could feel his muscles tense and shake under the intensity of the pain, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

The sound woke the younger woman, and she jumped to her feet, daggers appeared in her hands as she jumped in front of the old woman, ready to defend her. Green eyes scanned the room, then she slammed him back onto the ground, her knee on his chest and daggers to his throat.

His entire body tensed under her weight, prepared to fight against her. The raw power and determination in her eyes only fueled his own determination to break free from her grasp. It was a battle between two fierce warriors, each unwilling to back down without a fight.

"No," the other woman shouted, making the younger one above him freeze. Gods, she was beautiful, like an avenging angel.

Bright green eyes as deep as the forest at sunset. A wild mane of curly hair piled on top of her head just begged him to bury his hands in it. High cheekbones, wide little rabbit nose that twitched as she breathed deeply, her breasts rising and falling in the confines of the black vest and green shirt.

Their eyes met, both of their hearts racing. He could see the pounding of hers at her neck, the wildness in her eyes. A deep part of himself recognized her, wanted to flip her over and wrestle for dominance…

Wanted to claim her as his.

He blinked in surprise, and his heart stuttered as his body went slack beneath her.

She was his mate.

The Elders had said when the bond hits, they'd know. By the gods, they were right. He'd seen the mate bond snap into place while on a pack run with a neighboring pack. There had been no tearing those two apart. They were lucky to both have lived through it.

He wrestled with control of his primal side, not wanting to hurt this woman or scare her away. She wasn't a Growler. She might not survive a rough claiming, even if she accepted him.

He'd seen a mate bond be denied, too. They'd both wound up dead within a few weeks. The need to protect her flowed through him, giving him new energy. Even if he had to protect her from a rough claiming from him or from herself, he'd see her safe and loved

He shuddered, renewed purpose and the weight of a new responsibility settling in his soul. His hand wrapped around her wrist at his throat, his thumb caressing back and forth on her skin.

The magic of the mate bond made his mouth water, and he desperately wanted to kiss her.

Her jaw slackened and eyes darkened, flaring in recognition. Her hands shook as she slid away from him, sitting on her ass beside him. She brushed the hair from her face and blinked with a stunned expression.

Did she feel it, too? Did she know what they were to each other?

His heart raced as he looked up at the older woman, concern clearly written on her face. But he could only drag his eyes away from his mate for a second before he looked back at her.

He blinked, trying to memorize the beauty's face, as the other woman sighed and wiped her hands on her apron.

"It's as the dream foretold," she said softly, solemnly. Then she cleared her throat. "Alright, breakfast is almost ready. I'm sure you're both famished. Growler, you can sit in the chair if you feel able, but don't push yourself. Just sit where you are if you'd like, and I'll bring you a plate."

He came up on one elbow and leaned against the chair behind him, never taking his eyes from the goddess of his dreams even as his vision swam. "Who are you?"

His voice was gravelly and weak, and the woman frowned. She came to her feet gracefully and walked to the kitchen table, putting one of her daggers away and grabbing a mug.

He smirked, glad she never turned her back on him. His Red was a smart woman. His eyes narrowed. She wasn't his yet, but she would be soon. He had to plan how to claim her without killing her or making her deny it. It wouldn't be easy. With her prickly nature, she'd be hard to get close to.

And those slightly curved antlers, two sticking up like a deer's but with no other points. They were only about the length of a hand and not very tall, but they could spear a man to death with how pointed they were. If he got too close and she didn't want him to be, he'd be gutted.

They were above the cute little rabbit ears that stuck up on the sides of her head, soft red curls falling around them as her bun was loosened. A long red bushy tail flicked behind her. What was she?

He'd never seen the like before. She was one of a kind, predator and prey, all wrapped in one neat little package. He wanted to know everything about her, why she was so quick to draw those daggers, why she was so tender when she applied the salve.

She handed him the mug, dagger ready in her other hand. He wiped the sweat from his lip and took the mug with his free hand. His bad arm, ribs, and entire left side throbbed where they were bound together with bandages.

"I'm Scarlet," the young woman said. "A Hunter and Olive's granddaughter."

She nodded to the woman in the kitchen, and he drank the water, gulping like it'd been days since his last drink.

Shit, she was a Hunter. They were the reason the Growlers kept to the forest now. Hunters had almost wiped their race out until the Elders had turned them with the gift.

Scarlet. Her name rang in his head like a bell. He couldn't wait to yell her name in the throes of passion.

He smacked his lips and lowered the cup. "How long have I been here?" His voice wasn't as rough, but he raised the cup to finish drinking anyway.

"I found you yesterday morning. Your fever was terrible, but Grandma came home with a special herb. Seems like it worked."

He grinned slowly. "You don't have to sound so put out about the fact that I survived."

She shrugged and sat in the chair opposite of him, twirling her dagger between her fingers. "I have no opinion about your continued existence here."

"Shame," he murmured. "I'd be devastated if something happened to you, Red."

Her eyes narrowed, and the dagger stopped, trapped between her forefinger and thumb as if ready to throw at his head. Then she scowled, "Don't call me Red. My name is Scarlet."

His lips widened. She was feisty, and it sent a thrill through him. "And you can call me Wulfric, alpha of the Growlers." He frowned, looking down at the empty mug. Well, he may be the former alpha.

He'd need to reclaim his title so he'd have something worth offering her. Growler women had tried for years to chain him down, but they'd never felt right. Not even when he'd slept with a few of them. That had just been scratching an itch.

He looked up. Scarlet was a completely different matter. He needed to proceed with caution if he was going to convince her to claim him back.

The older woman returned and handed him a heaping plate of food, mostly meat and eggs. He set the mug on the floor and took the plate, but the older woman took the mug.

"I'm Olive, as Scarlet said. Why don't you tell us what brings you to seek help from this old druid? The Growlers haven't been here in thirty years, and with good reason. We're not exactly on friendly terms."

She turned and grabbed a pitcher from the table as she talked, refilling his mug. Her words rang true, and he sensed no danger from her.

Then her words finally penetrated his still healing brain.

"Wait, you're the druid everyone says to stay away from? Not Scarlet?" He pointed with the fork, then looked at the utensil, a tingling feeling in the back of his brain as he stared at it. He knew it was a fork and how to use it, but he'd not used one in years. Not since turning into a Growler.

He took a deep breath, but pushed aside the thoughts as the old woman waved a hand. "Scarlet's learned basic healing and druidic practices, yes, but sadly, her talents weren't magical enough to become a full druid."

Wulfric watched as Scarlet's dagger paused in the back-and-forth pattern and her eyes lowered. She had feelings about that. Was she disappointed in herself or relieved?

Then her back stiffened, and she lifted her jaw. "A better question would be, how did you get through the protective barriers? They're designed to keep out Growlers, among other things."

Pride made him smile around a full bite of ham, but it was the druid that answered her granddaughter.

"Oh, I disabled them, child."

Scarlet sighed and briefly closed her eyes. "I was afraid of that. Grandma, that's–"

"Dangerous? I know," Olive sighed, walking back to him with the cup again. "But the dream showed me what had to happen, so I obeyed. And it's a good thing I did, isn't it? Otherwise, he would've bled out in the forest or been eaten by the forest itself."

Scarlet shivered and sank back against the chair, her jaw set in a sullen expression. Good, she had a healthy understanding of how dangerous the Feral Forest could be.

He was a third of the way through the plate when the druid handed him the refilled cup, which he immediately chugged.

Olive snorted and turned back to the table, bringing the entire pitcher to refill it. "Wulfric, is it? Dreams are sometimes fuzzy on the details. What brings you here?"

He took a deep breath, feeling compelled to tell the woman everything. He recognized it as magic, but didn't fight it. The Elders used this type on them all the time.

"It was a normal night, and I was doing a perimeter check. A few other Growlers ambushed me in an illegal alpha challenge. I could only take out two and a half of the five who attacked. Felt like I might have more odds of surviving if I regrouped, healed, and then returned to take back my position."

He began to eat again, but didn't miss the look that the two women exchanged. Scarlet sat back in the chair and tossed the dagger, catching it easily by the handle.

"Why did they challenge you? Were you a terrible leader?"

He looked at her as he chewed more slowly, thinking over the past few years. After another drink, he said, "I don't think so but there have been grumblings over the past few months. Several of the newer Growlers think that the new queen isn't strong enough to hold the current boundaries of Busparia. They speak of an invasion, of taking control, but I think most of them just miss home."

Olive shifted on her feet, her face almost a mirror expression of Scarlet's. They both were so eager, wanting to know more.

"Is it true?" Olive said. "Growlers are both born and turned?"

He looked at her and nodded slowly. Even though he no longer felt the compulsion, he owed them some answers, since they'd saved his life. "Yes, but I can't tell you how. That information is forbidden by the Elders and will never be discussed outside of the pack. Even as alpha, I don't know the spells or how it works."

Olive seemed to deflate as she tapped her chin. Then she looked at Scarlet with a contemplative expression as he continued to eat.

"What?" Scarlet asked, blinking. "What are you thinking?"

Olive pursed her lips and hummed. "Well, I'm thinking the same method that turns humans into Growlers might also be used in reverse to change your curse."

Scarlet's eyes widened, but Olive continued. "What remains of your curse, anyway. Your ears and horns have shrunk thanks to the glocken berry, but sadly it didn't cure it completely."

Scarlet's jaw dropped along with the dagger, her fingers flying to her head as the weapon clanged to the floor.